Cold January Morning (Short Story)

The man sipped his coffee and watched the steam rise into the chill morning air.  He could feel the heat as it slid lower and lower into his body until it finally it hit his stomach and froze.  The tick-tock of his wristwatch blared rebelliously against the silence of the street; with each clack a burst of adrenaline seared through his heart and he felt it in his arms, his stomach, and finally, a hammer to his head.  He was afraid, this man was.  No, not afraid.  Terrified.  The kind of terror that makes you frozen, that wipes all emotion from your face except your eyes– that was the kind of terror that besieged this man.  And those eyes, if you were to look carefully, those eyes revealed the true state of this man’s tortured mind.  
Was he being pursued?  Was he going to die? No.  Nothing like that.  Nothing like that at all.

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